


Bright lights that cast a shadow

by ReturnFrom_86



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, set a few years in the future, the finale headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2017-12-29 05:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1001306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReturnFrom_86/pseuds/ReturnFrom_86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchester's have long given up on the big, world ending battles, they now focus on what they know they can do. The family business. They, with Castiel, perform their last hunt and find out if there really is life after hunting. Mainly Sam centred (because he needs all the love he can get) with Destiel established.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi, my tumblr is returnfrom-86.tumblr.com

It had felt good. Really good. A good old, regular hunt. After saving the world multiple times Sam Winchester felt they deserved it. No more misplaced trust, no more grandiose sacrifices and definitely no more being caught between the arrogant powers of "good" and "evil". They could go screw themselves, the Winchester's and Castiel ignored them completely and stayed on the down low. And so for 5 years they'd done just that, from their home at the bunker, honest-to-god-saving-people-from-the-unkown hunt. Potential signs had flared up in a small town 3 hours drive away. Bodies torn apart in a newbuild site, heavily guarded but no one saw a thing. Definitely worth a shot. They hadn't chased a hunt in months, Dean was itching in his skin to get out of the bunker, Castiel was hoping the hunt would eleviate the tension of the close quarters, even Sam was starting to feel confined by his beloved books. The three men eagerly packed their bags, still relishing in the fact that they had to repack their duffle bags instead of just live out of them, even after all the years of living in the bunker. Sam and Castiel stood back as Dean danced around his baby, doing last minute tuning checks of the engine, Sam glanced at Castiel who was staring at Dean. Castiel's eyes were shining and a smirk played upon his lips, Cas caught Sam's eye and both hunters looked away quickly, a blush colouring their cheeks. Sam gave the man a gentle nudge on the arm then released a roaring laugh as Dean posed himself seductively over the hood of the Impala, "she's good to go," Dean winked. Cas' eyes were smouldering by this point, if they carried on like that it was going to be a long 3 hours for sam, but it was good to be out at last.

Riding in the back had been Sam's idea, near enough 9 years of being cooped up in the shot gun seat had racked his 6 ft 4" body, and being able to stretch out in the back was positively heavenly. Sam's gaze roamed over the lush, summer country side, he smiled at the gentle hand Castiel rested on Dean's thigh, his brother's crinkled eyes brightening every time he peeked over at Cas, or caught Sam's eye in the mirror. The steady rhythm of the car was as much a home as the bunker and Sam found his breath becoming steadier and his brow lighten. The 3 hours passed in a classic rock haze and a comfortable numbness, Sam thought it had ended almost too soon. Next time he'd see if he could find a hunt further afield. The three men stretched their muscles and started towards the motel after gathering their bags from the trunk. They settled the bill for two rooms and headed their separate ways, deciding to meet back at Sam's to discuss the hunt. All Dean and Cas had to do was dump their bags, but Sam knew to give them at least half an hour. Breathing out the stale air of the room in a long sigh Sam went to the bathroom, deciding there wasn't really a need to unpack anything apart from his laptop. Staring in the mirror he sighed again, the lines on his face etching out his past mistakes and horrors. It had been 5 years since Cas had decided to choose the Winchesters, well, a certain Winchester, over returning to the newly opened heaven. Although Dean's eyes still sometimes held a haunted look and maybe he was losing his hair a little, but no one talked about it, his worry lines had been smoothed over by Cas long ago and were replaced with wrinkles of laughter. Sam's heavy brows knitted together, gripping the sink trying to quell the envy. All the shit they'd done, Dean was owed some happiness, and Cas. "Why not me too?" Sam asked his crazed reflection.

40 minutes later Sam, Dean and Cas were figuring out the basics of the case. 2 victims, one man, one woman, bodies torn brutally apart, the locals were saying an animal did it, but it was a newly built gated community with top notch security. The little view they'd got while driving through to the motel had given Sam the creeps, it was far too neat and suburban. Unrealistically cliched, a nosy housewife's dream. An animal would have been spotted and sneered at instantly. "So Sammy, you want to go check out the morgue, and me and Cas will go see all our dearly departed's dearest?" Sam smiled at Dean's plan but also felt the usual stab in his gut of being sidelined, "Sure Dean, just quit the dewy-eyed looks, I still don't know what the FBI think about inter-partner relationships." Dean looked at Sam, eyes shining with upset, "I am a professional Sam." Cas let out a loud snort and rolled his eyes at Sam, which set his stomach at ease. He was still part of the group, still in on the jokes, he just struggled at remembering that fact sometimes.

The morgue was the same as the thousands of morgues Sam had been to over the years, clean, sterile and quiet. The mortician left Sam with the bodies, the first thing Sam noticed was that the report had been wrong. The bodies were not torn brutally apart as if an animal had been at them, the cut was clean on both victims, just at the naval, through all the sinew and bone. There were also no times of death for either of them. After a little longer, but not finding out much else suspicious, Sam chased after the mortician. The man was almost as tall as Sam, his hair heavily greying and eyes red with tiredness, the hunter decided to take things easy and not grill the man too hard. "So I noticed, no time of death? For any of the victims?" The man closed his eyes slowly, his body swaying and Sam almost put out a hand to steady him. The man's voice was soft and pained, "you think I've made a mistake, just like all the others. That I'm making things up, that I...", the man visibly swallowed, voice drifting to silence. "No, sir, I don't think you've made a mistake, whatever happened here, the papers have clearly got it wrong. I was hoping you'd help me explain it." Sam poured as much sincerity as he could into his voice, he was good at that, as the man opened his eyes, dangerously full of tears. He took a breath, "I didn't put down the ToD because the reading I got was completely wrong. The ToD was incoherent with the timing of - of - one of the, ehm, victim's whereabouts. The time I got, if the victim was alive at that time, means the time was artificially created, I would guess the body was put into some sort of deep freeze. But I saw no external signs." Sam's mind raced, cold, spirits left a body cold, but he needed confirmation that the time was wrong so being as heartfelt as possible he asked, "Can you be certain that the time is wrong?" The man stared deep into Sam's eyes, "tell me son, are you married?", the question knocked Sam off his guard and he scowled as it hit far too close to a painful nerve. Curtly he answered, "No, I don't see how that- ", the mortician cut him off, "well, if you were married you would certainly know when your wife was in the kitchen preparing a lunch for you, and when she was in the garage being ripped in half." At that the man walked away, leaving a silence heavy with contempt to smother Sam. 

Back at the motel Sam found a salad waiting for him, Cas and Dean lay sprawled on his bed, making their way through their own burgers, "How was the morgue guy?" Dean asked before stuffing his mouth again. Sam grimaced at the sight and started on his salad, they'd even got the dressing he liked, "pretty messed up considering he had to cut into his wife after something else made a much bigger cut into her." Cas made a face at that, but shrugged and attacked his burger again with as much vigour as Dean. After the food Sam explained to them the state of the bodies, then Dean explained how the mortician was the only one within close proximity, and how, because the local police wanted to keep the reality hushed to minimise the panic in suburbia they needed a quick examination, so he'd been forced to work the case. His wife had been the first victim. They shared a moment of silence, each imagining the pain the man must be going through. Sam coughed and broke the silence, "So what about the second victim?" Dean snuck a smile at Cas who was pointedly ignoring Dean with a face like thunder, Sam felt the walls between him and the couple get thicker and took steady breaths, turning back to Sam, Dean said, "Second victim was a nanny and- ", "huh? It was a man and a woman that got killed, not two women." Dean huffed out a breath, "so sexist Sammy, the dude was a nanny and a damn good one by what we could make out from the crying of the family. They didn't really have much intel, so we decided to dig deeper, we got chatting to one of the maids who'd taken a shine to me-", "because you encouraged it," Cas interjected, and Sam guessed that was what he'd been sulking about. "It was for the good of the case Cas, she told us plenty of stuff." Cas shifted on the bed to smooth his shirt, mumbling under his breath, "well you didn't have to be so convincing," Dean simply grinned at the ex-angel, but his eyes were full of warmth rather than the usual cheeky glint. Breathing deeply Sam asked, "so what information did you get? Dean?", His brother eventually tore his eyes away from Cas and answered, "The houses where the deaths happened are built on the same plot of land where an old school burned down years ago, the maid's grandfather went to it. Supposedly only one person died in the fire., a bitch of a teacher who's punishment of choice would be to cane the poor kids in the stomach. So the place goes inferno, no one knows how, everyone else gets out but she's trapped and nobody goes in to get her. The maid said her grandfather used to talk about how she screamed through the whole night, shouting curses and threats, until eventually the fires died down and the screaming stopped. When the fire crew got in they found her body Kentucky fried and trapped between the ground and the blackboard. The maid's grandfather also said that the cane had dug almost half way through her stomach because it was stuck between her and the weight of the blackboard. So vengeful spirit gets my vote, but the catch is they cremated her." Dean leaned back, face beaming with the pride of acquiring the story. Cas leaned into him, "you're right, it was worth the information, and I can't blame the woman for not being able to keep her eyes off you, I could barely-", Sam bolted up out of his chair, "I think I saw something, a flier at the motel reception, wait a minute. I'll be back, understand I'll be _right_ back." He stared into his brother's eyes pleading for him not to get up to anything with Cas for Sam to walk back into. Cas moved a respectable distance away from Dean, but both the couple's eyes were brimming with trickery. It didn't take Sam long, however when he walked back into the room he was greeted to two bodies frantically separating and flushed guilty faces. Sam kept his face neutral although he groaned inwardly at feeling like an intruder in his own room with his only family. "So get this", Sam persevered, ignoring the way Cas' shirt collar was now glaringly open, "the new build company set up a small museum to commemorate what was knocked down, and look what's on display." Sam held up a flier, and in one of the pictures above a cheesy recommendation in a gaudy font, was a picture of an old school cane. "Look, it even has fire damage", Cas commented with a yawn. "It's late, we'll check it out tomorrow, c'mon you," Dean nudged Cas off the bed. As the two were making their way out Dean gripped Sam's arm, "see you in the morning Sammy", his face crinkled into a tender smile. "Yeah, night Dean", Sam said, not quite reciprocating the smile.


	2. Chapter 2

The 'museum' didn't have much to it. The 3 hunter's were the only people in the place apart from a half-sleeping teen at the entrance desk. The cane display was off to a side and they wandered over to it, Cas said, "it doesn't seem very ominous". He was right, the cane seemed too shiny, almost like plastic, "shit" Dean said, echoing in the empty space, "it's a fucking replica, why is it never easy". Sam groaned, back to square one, Dean let out a chuckle, "hold up, it says here the real one was buried in an honorary grave for the teacher who lost her life. That's pretty disturbing, why would they bury that." Dean's brows rose and Sam knew he was questioning the monstrousness that was humanity. Cas sighed, "I'd hoped we wouldn't end up digging a grave this time, I shouldn't have been so optimistic." He let out a yelp as Dean pinched his ass, "what are you taking about, it's me and Sam who do the manual labour, you just stand there pretty with a flashlight." Cas grinned elbowing Dean gently in the ribs and threatened, "carry on like that and I won't wash the dirt off for you when we're finished salt and burning." Sam made a retching sound, which he didn't admit to himself was only half faked, Dean reached up, hooking an arm around his neck, "don't worry Sammy, we'll run the water in the shower extra loud, just for you."

The hunter's kept a look out for any ghosty acivity but the sun was shining down strongly, covering everything in a comforting warmth. They drove out to a diner, where most of the community they were guarding had beat them to it and filled the place with an amiable hum of life. Making a beeline for a recently unoccupied table outside Sam nudged against one of the waitresses by accident, sheepishly apologising to each other they parted. Sam's heart had raced a little at the minuscule contact with another human being, and Dean had to push him on to claim the table. Taking their seats Dean laid an arm around Cas' shoulders in a simple gesture. The same waitress approached the boy's table, "what can I get you gents?", Dean, noting the flush on his brother's cheeks, flashed a charming smile, "Three waters, three ice cream's, surprise us with the flavour, and can my one have a big slice of your best pie please, thanks." The waitress took note of the order, Sam opened his mouth, closed it again, then seemed to come to a conclusion, "pretty busy huh? It usually like this?" His eyes trailed over the tables of happy families, he tried desperately to hide the longing from his eyes and didn't look at his brother who he felt was staring at him. The waitress flashed a smile at him, "yeah, it's pretty crazy, the sun makes everyone happy. Plus it's the weekend, it is usually like this at the weekend." Sam nodded, "must suck working the weekend." The waitress shrugged, "when it's busy it goes by quick, and I get to meet lovely people such as yourselves." She raised an eyebrow at the men and wandered off to put in their order. Dean let out a low whistle and Sam visibly squirmed as his stomach did a flip. Cas said in a lower voice than his usual, "Dean you can not convince me this time that flirting with that woman will be for the good of the case this time," a scowl appearing on his face. Dean chuckled, "Cas I thought we'd gotten over that last night, besides this one is all Sammy's." Cas looked at Sam, eyes wide in understanding, "oh," he said simply. Dean leaned his head, nuzzling Cas' hair, "but man do I love it when you're jealous." The waitress returned and Cas had to push Dean away, a flush spreading up his face. The waitress smiled at Sam who wore a face of someone desperate to feign disinterest, "Pie! Thanks," Dean exclaimed, digging into the pie, then continued, with his mouth full, in a petulant tone, "hey, Sammy's got more ice cream than us." The waitress let out quite a hearty chuckle at the man's outburst then winked at Sam, "I felt sorry for the poor guy third-wheeling it so I gave him an extra scoop," and off she went to another table. "Dude," Dean said, "you gotta find out when her shift ends, it'll do you good." Sam didn't reply, he just flashed the couple a bright smile and dug into his extra ice cream, which tasted even more delicious than any other ice cream he thought he'd ever tasted. 

Sam once again gazed out at the sea of familial bonding drowning him, a young couple to his right, the light of the blonde girl's engagement ring blinding him in the sun. Cas stealing a slice of pie from Dean's plate. An older couple trying desperately to herd their mob of grandkids and visibly sighing in relief when the parents walk in from the car to help with the kids. Dean playfully slapping Cas' hand away before feeding him a piece of pie off his fork. A woman and her daughter chatting relentlessly and highly animated about what, Sam could not tell. Cas tenderly brushing some pie away from the corner of Dean's mouth. A man walking in followed by two teenage boys, Sam notices the fishing hooks in the car they'd just got out of. Both boys are grinning at each other and their father beams at them, ruffling both their heads. The boys move away embarrassed but can't hide the love on their faces. The older boy makes a remark and the three of them are bent double in laughter, and are still wiping tears from their eyes and beaming like idiots at each other as they take a recently vacated table. Dean's hand resting innocently on Cas', his thumb rubbing circles into the other man's skin. Dean's voice low and commanding same as ever. Dean saying words, his voice getting louder. Dean speaking. Sam snaps out of his reverie, Dean is asking him a question, a slight worry in his eyes. Cas is staring at Sam with confusion but keeps quiet. "What?" Sam asks dumbly, "I just asked when you were going to ask the waitress out," Dean wiggles his eyebrows, "Jesus Dean, I'm not just gonna- I mean, just drop it ok", Sam's replies irritably. Dean and Cas share a look of worry between them, which snaps something in Sam and excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

"Keep it together Winchester," Sam said as he splashed water onto his face, his face is still handsome with a youthful hue, but all Sam can see is tiredness etched into his very atoms. He fixed a smile to his face, more of a grimace, and headed back to the table. As Sam weaved in between the thinning out customers he spotted the waitress, they shared a sweet smile, maybe Sam would talk to her, find out where it could lead him. Once at the table Sam sat down to an awkward silence and melted ice cream however Cas started to tell Sam about a child that had walked in with a balloon while he'd been away, and then asked the younger Winchester why there was such a fascination with gas trapped in an elastic material, although the colours were intriguing Cas conceded. The casual conversation continued, but the habitual unease in Sam's stomach was still an ever constant presence. Dean and Cas decided to head off to find the fun fair the child had got the balloon from, but Sam went back to the hotel, complaining of a head ache but wishing them a good time, he left to the mumbling of Dean's, "grumpy son of a bitch," but guilt twisting his insides as he saw worry on his older brother's face.

Sam envied the couple, and he hated that fact. He loved his brother and Castiel beyond any conceivable concept, and had left his life on the line for both of them over their long history without an ounce of regret. But the love they'd found within each other grated at him. It had been wonderful to begin with, seeing his brother truly happy for once and settling down, but as the years flew by and the couple's bond grew stronger, Sam remained just Sam. Every new town they'd visit Sam would scour the crowds for the 'one', until eventually bitterness at the concept crept in. He pined for a life that could never possibly be his, he'd always felt the ache as a young man setting out in search of his girlfriend's murderer, but as an older man with nothing in his future but more hunting until they inevitably fucked up, the ache was raw and nearly over powering. Castiel and his brother were sadly a relentless reminder. Sitting alone in his room would do no good, Sam knew that, but sometimes it was just what he needed.

Dean and Castiel returned once the sky was beginning to bruise, yellow balloon grasped in the ex-angel's hand. Dean walked up to his brother and rested a gentle hand on his head, "How you doing buddy?" Sam laughed and batted the hand away, "A couple pills and a nice nap, I'm good to go. You have a good time?" Sam asked diverting the conversation from how he was feeling, Castiel grinned, "Dean got me a balloon, but he didn't get me a bear. Missed the bulls eye. He must be losing his touch." Dean bristled at that, "the bear was fucking 10ft high, we'd never have gotten it in the car, besides I don't want a 10ft teddy in the car. It had a bow. Not cool. I missed on purpose." Cas took a step towards Dean, "But Dean, you almost shot the assistant. I hope you weren't aiming for the poor boy." The younger Winchester snorted at that, and Dean threw him an annoyed glance, "I was distracted." Castiel's deep chuckle rolled through the room and Sam could only guess at the distractions Cas had been setting up for Dean. Castiel stepped away and made for Sam, "We won this for you, it was a hoop competition." Castiel took his hand that he'd been hiding behind his back to his front. He was holding a stuffed moose, just one of the cheap fair ground toys, his face was shy, crying out for forgiveness for having fun without him. Sam took hold of the moose, it's fuzz warm and soft, he beamed up at Castiel, "Aww man, thanks, I love it." Castiel grinned then stuck his tongue out at Dean, I told you he'd prefer the moose to the clown." Dean's face coloured, "Come on Cas, lets get ready for tonight." Taking Dean's hand, Cas led the hunter away, both men eyed Sam warily but he made a shooing motion, telling them he was fine and that he'd go get the weapons organised. And Sam was feeling alright, his time alone with his thoughts had placated the loneliness which had been building up through out the day, and now he was ready to go hunt some evil with his family. He gave a genuine lingering smile to his stuffed companion then rested it on the bed by his pillow before making his way to the Impala.


	3. Chapter 3

The graveyard was one of the few plots in the area that had been left untouched over time. The crumbling epitaphs and soggy, trodden ground sent a chill down the hunter's spines, the shadows heavy in the dying light. Castiel carried a couple boxes of salt, a can of gas and a flashlight, the two brothers walked either side of him, armed with iron and shovels. Dean easily spotted the grave, it's presence looming over the plot it occupied. He grinned at his brother as the last light fell below the horizon, his face fading from a warm bronze colour to darkness, "well Sammy, no time like the present." With that he drove his shovel into the packed ground. Every so often Castiel would offer some encouragement as the brother's breathing became more laboured, muscles protesting and not as willing as previous years. When Castiel's encouragement verged too close to patronising Dean or Sam would send a shovelful of dirt his way. Sam enjoyed the steady rhythm of digging, the way he had to concentrate simply on making his muscles work and not think about much else. Dean stopped digging and leaned against the side of the grave, breathing deeply, "damn this bitch is buried deep," he said, Cas walked over to the side of the grave where Dean was leaning and wiped some of the sweat away from the man's forehead. Cas crouched down and put his mouth to Dean's ear, whispering a promise that Sam could vaguely catch but wished he hadn't. Dean jumped back up, doubling his digging effort, "C'mon Sammy, don't want to keep the man waiting do we." Cas smirked down at the men and Sam couldn't help but laugh at how revitalised his brother suddenly was. 

Eventually both shovels struck rotted wood, clawing it apart revealed a dusty urn where the cremated remains of the teacher were stored, and the cane itself. Sam and Dean hauled themselves out of the hole and stared back down. Dean reached over to Castiel for the salt, but Cas was looking off in the distance, screwing his eyes, "Guys, does it feel colder?", the brothers looked at each other, Sam rubbed his hands together and had to admit that there was definitely a chill to the air. The warmth of the day should have left a mark on the night but a crispness was settling into the graveyard. The Winchesters gathered the iron crowbars as Cas quickly opened the salt container and started pouring. A bone-slicing shriek sliced through the cooling air, setting an ache in the men's teeth. Castiel dropped the salt into the grave and made for the gasoline, Sam by his side spotted the spectre hurtling towards them and with a well timed swing, smashed it into oblivion. Thinking they had some time to gather their thoughts the three men turned back immediately to burning the remains, however the ghost instantly reappeared with a scornful scream. Dean went flying to the side, the sound his head made on a crumbling tomb stone made Sam's stomach clench. He just kept swinging but she kept attacking with her cane, which Sam thought must be made of steel with the way it jarred against his crow bar. She constantly reappeared a few yards away, cane high above her head, ready to reign lethal blows. Cas had poured the gasoline down into the grave by the time Sam's arms failed him and he was sent crashing into the ex-angel. His arms burning from the the labour and fingers clumsy with exhaustion he found the lighter from inside his pocket and threw it to Castiel who deftly caught it. Sam looked deep into the blue eyes, "light that bitch up," and ran towards the glowing woman. Sam was almost calm as his heart defied his mind and raced at a gallop, he eyed the ghost, so full of hatred and betrayal, and saw a fitting end to a hard life lived to the best of his abilities. The ghost's cane was raised and inches away when he felt the dense weight slam into his body like a train. He hit the ground and the weight slammed on top of him, mind dazed he lifted his head to see a fire roaring in the grave, Castiel stood over it, eyes blazing with the vibrant reflection of the flames. Sam allowed himself a smile, they'd toasted the ghost, they'd won again. The smile died on the hunter's face instantly as a ghostly cane flickered and disappeared from Castiel's stomach. It may have been a ghostly apparition but the blood pouring from the wound, staining his jacket, was starkly real. "She threw it..." Cas whispered barely visible over the crackling fire as he slumped to his knees. Sam pushed at the weight on top of him but his hands met a sticky, warm liquid. The iron tang filled his nose and his eyes began to prickle as he recognised his brother's coat soaked in the blood. "D-Dean?", Sam stuttered, voice cracking. "Dean." he said more forcefully, the prickle behind his eyes getting stronger. His brother didn't reply and as Sam stilled himself his heart skipped a beat when he realised he couldn't feel the steady breathing of Dean on top of him. Castiel was by his side, face deathly pale, having crawled around the grave. His blue eyes were streaming rivers, marking paths through the mud and sweat caked on his cheeks. 

Together Sam and Castiel got Dean onto the back seat of the Impala in complete silence. Neither wanting to admit the lifelessness of the body or the inches deep gash across his stomach. Sam's nerves were buzzing with a chill as he drove the three of them home, with little reverence for speed limits. At his side Castiel sat stone still, turned in the seat and eyes fixed on Dean. His time of being an angel was long gone, but the intensity at which he stared at the fallen Winchester was enough to blaze a thousand suns. His very breathing, slight though it was, seemed to try to breath life back into Dean with a holy will. Sam made short work of packing up their stuff from the motel, moving in a daze, expecting to wake up any second and shrug the nightmare off, but the prickling in his eyes was still present and no matter how hard he clenched his fist he remained in the nightmare. Sam had wanted to put some attention to Cas' wounds but the smaller man shooed him away so he decided to head for the bunker as soon as possible, there were more more medical supplies there anyway, and maybe something for his brother… a shiver tore up Sam's spine and his vision blurred, he would _not_ think about his brother's present state, he needed to concentrate on getting home.

The medicines available in the bunker were varied, many pills claimed from fake prescriptions, military kits from the brothers' father and still usable after all those years, their usual hunter necessaries and some oddities picked up from case files deep in the bunker's labyrinth of storage. Dean knew about how to use most of the stuff, he'd done his research on the supernatural cures thoroughly, not wanting to endanger his family when they were trying to be helped, and most of the normal medical supplies he knew how to use from his avid obsession over Dr. Sexy M.D. which, to Sam's utter contempt, seemed to be in it's 18th season or so. It just would not end. Even Castiel, after years of mastering life as a human, could not comprehend the attention Dean gave the show, but loved how letting Dean cover him in bandages to show off a new method of stemming blood he'd seen Dr Sexy do would turn on a light in the hunter's eyes. Sam toyed with the bandage in his hand, his own eyes dark and drowning in memories. The whimpers from the other room brought him back to his senses, there was still a member of their little family he could save. Cas had draped himself over Dean, arms covered in blood, both his and his dead partner's, his whole body shook with violent sobs that arched his back, Sam had placed Dean's body on the table of the main room before leaving to search for anything that could help. Dean's body was pale and cold to his brother's touch as Sam rested a hand on his cheek, his other hand he gently rested on Cas' tangled hair. Cas shifted at the touch and raised his head warily, madness inhabited his pupils, staining the brilliant blue irises. Sam tried to move Castiel to get closer to his wound, but Castiel's hands only wound tighter around Dean's clothes. "C'mon Cas, please," Sam mumbled, and he took advantage of the momentary release of Dean's clothes from his clutches, turning Cas around to cut the shirt away from his wound. Sam breathed a sigh of relief as he noticed the wound, although it had bled heavily, was not deep and had not struck anything vital, the cane having lost most of it's energy as it had soared through the air and the ghost had dissolved. Cas paid no heed to Sam's ministrations and as soon as he got an opportunity he turned back to curl himself against Dean's lifeless body, muttering curses and prayers alike under his strained breath, lost in a nightmare of his own.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam was completely and utterly and devastatingly alone. Eyes red raw and head pounding from lack of sleep he muttered the final words of the summoning spell and threw the ingredients into the incense, a blast of flame and there it was, a demon. Sam almost had to suppress a cynical chuckle, the Winchester's, the 'family business', it always ended up with a demon deal or two. His mind wandered to the events leading to that moment, as the demon made disgruntled noises about the devil's trap it had been summoned in to. Castiel had lost a lot of blood, but he hadn't been lethargic at all, so Sam assumed the man was coping while he searched for a way to bring his brother back, there had to be a way, he wouldn't give up this time. But the only thing stopping Cas from giving into his body's cry for rest was his unrelenting hope to stay by Dean's side. The hours ticked by and all Sam had managed to do was place a preservation ward around his brother's deteriorating body. Sam's search grew more crazed and the ache in Castiel's heart was painted on his face in cold, salty tears. Sam's face was drenched too as he returned hours later choking a "sorry', to the pained man. Castiel closed his eyes and breathed out "I'm sorry too, Sam", with that his chest stuttered and his body sagged against Dean's as he simply gave in to the calls of his broken heart and let himself go. Sam crashed to his knees, legs unable to hold up his shaking body, this was an all new type of hell, the instantaneous loneliness bit at Sam's insides, tearing him apart from deep within, throwing his tattered soul into a dark abyss of nothing. Kneeling on the floor he wept and wailed and cursed and screamed allowing a liberating madness to overtake his senses.

With a wrenching sigh Sam steadily brought his mind back to order, his hands still shook but the rest of him felt strangely loose and calm, rising slowly to his feet it was at that moment he had decided to try what he'd promised he'd never get caught up in again, he was going to make a deal. The demon standing before him was in a sharp, well tailored suit and was still moaning about it's confinement when Sam told him to shut up. "Rude", the demon responded with a snarl, "who are you and what do you want?" Sam stopped short, sure they had been keeping off the radars, now they just killed demons instead of getting tangled up in their mess, but surely they still all knew of the Winchester's, maybe it was just a new recruit he'd snagged. Sam cleared his throat, "I'm Sam Winchester, and I'd like to make a deal." The demon's mouth actually dropped open as his eyes unblinkingly snapped to obsidian and raked over Sam's body,"not _the_ Sam Winchester, one part of the Winchester brothers, the _legends_ who said 'fuck you' to destiny then fucked off as they pleased, stopped the apocalypse, reopened upstairs, serial demon killers. Am I on the right track? Wow, I feel like I should ask you for an autograph or something." Although his voice had a sneery edge to it, Sam heard the honest praise and wonder as the demon talked about their deeds. "So, where's Winchester number 2? There was talk going round our little camp fire about that angel of yours and how he stayed here on earth to be with Dean on less holy terms, that true? Not much gossip in hell, more screaming, but that juicy tidbit kept us chatting for years." Sam's eyes glazed over, the demon waved a hand at his face, "hello... Sammy-", "only Dean can call me Sammy", Sam raged, his voice was laced with scathing and his eyes glowered at the demon who stumbled back at the intensity. Sam continued, "that's why I called you here, for a deal as old as hell itself, my life for theirs." The finality of actually saying those words left Sam dazed for a moment and he almost missed the frantic shaking of the demon's head. With a sigh which was almost apologetic the demon said, "no can do sir, bosses orders. No more dealing with the Winchesters, at all. Not a thing. You always seem to cause us so much bother when you meddle, we just want to torture souls in peace." Sam had thought as much, but after a fruitless search through the bunker it had been his last frantic hope, his shoulders sagged as he reached into his coat pocket for Ruby's well used knife, "I have to kill you now," the demon grinned up at the hunter, "It would be an honour."

His burst lip leaked blood onto the hard wood of the table, the demon may have thought it was an honour to be killed by a Winchester, but he certainly hadn't laid down and accepted his fate with out a fight "son of a _bitch_ ", Sam muttered to himself as he gingerly felt at a bruise forming on his ribs. Killing the demon had been almost cathartic and Sam felt he could almost handle being in the same room as his brother and his best friend. Staring at the bodies still sent a chill down Sam's long spine, the failure settling heavily in his stomach, his head throbbing from the hopelessness of the situation. The exhilaration of defeating the demon was washed away. Castiel's body lay within the preservation wards still clinging onto Dean's and if it hadn't been for the absolute stillness emanating from him, Sam would have thought he was sleeping. Sadly his brother had been late into the preservation ward, the drive home from the grave yard eons ago had marked his skin with a green hue, and his handsome face was slightly distorted with stalled beginnings of bloating. If Sam had found a way to bring his brother back, he was pretty sure Dean would be pretty pissed at how Sam had let his body get so mouldy. The thought brought an involuntary twitch to the corners of Sam's mouth, but with a guilty lurch of his stomach he suppressed the movement, how could he be happy, how could he ever be happy again. The silence was drumming against his ears, restless and uncomfortable but it was no time for music, so Sam began to speak, throat raw and crackling.

"You jerks, how could you do this. I should be gone too. Dean you bastard, why'd you do it, you had Cas to think about, to live for. You… you… you shoulda let the ghost get me. I'm sorry I couldn't save Cas either, I didn't know what to do, I still don't. Please, please… oh god please." Sam broke into a fit of sobs, but his nails dug into the flesh of his palms as an anger flared from deep within him. He began pacing the room, "God? God? And what's he ever done for us. We've been cleaning up his messes all our lives, seen good people die and evil skip free into the sunset. So here's a prayer for you, you son of a bitch, unlike any you've probably heard before, this is Sam Winchester praying to the big guy upstairs to kick his ass into gear and start thinking about us little, tiny, insignificant beings down here, because from where I'm standing, we're not all that insignificant after all. The three of us have been through shit not even your sadistic illusion of free will could think up, and for it to just end... where's the reason in all this, why are they gone, I don't know what to do I can't, I just…fuck, please." For the next few hours Sam continued in an almost divine rapture, cursing to God, and Lucifer and heaven and hell and everyone in between. Rage breaking away to heart aching sadness, until the anger took control again in an infinite cycle. Breathing hard, throat even more wrecked than before, Sam's mind was almost trance-like as he stopped his rambling tongue, his long hair stuck to dried tears on his cheeks. Raising his tearful eyes to the ceiling of the bunker he clasped his hands together, as words rose from his lips and drifted up into the air, "please, I'm so alone."


	5. Chapter 5

Sam's neck was stiff and dried salty tears crumbled from his eyes as he tried to open them. His blurry eyes finally settled on the bodies still lying on the table in front of him. The hunter had fallen asleep on one of the chairs, his every pore had been shuddering with exhaustion and had quickly fallen into a deep and comfortingly dark sleep, but upon waking he still felt tired. Something worked at Sam's senses, a niggling unease superseding the constant unease of having his dead brother and dead best friend lying in the room with him, something had woken Sam from his heavy slumber, he could sense it. Rising slowly and stifling a moan from his protesting muscles, Sam scanned the room silently. Nothing. The cloying quiet still pressed all around him, threatening to tip him back to the madness which had taken him the night before. Shaking himself Sam rubbed a hand down his face and simply sighed, _just imagining things_ Sam thought to himself, _not the first time_ his subconscious added. His stomach growled angrily as he made his way to the kitchen to focus on keeping his body running trying desperately not to think about the tasks ahead of him that day. He'd have to burn his brother.

The man tucked into a tasteless leftover sandwich which was the first piece of food his hands grasped in the fridge past the all the beers. Sam stopped mid-chew as something stirred the silence, almost like a gust of wind… or a beat of wings- _no, it can't be_ Sam rushed through to the room where the bodies lay on the table unmoved, almost tripping over his long legs in his haste. There were no angels in the room, but standing just to the side of the bodies, gazing longingly at them were two people Sam thought he'd never see standing again. Dean's ghostly eyes met Sam's and the tall man almost collapsed under the gaze, his brother's eyes reflected the ghostly hue his whole body projected but they were still full of nothing but warmth for his little brother. "Dude, you let me get fugly", Dean smirked, "I don't think I can ever forgive you. Damn it, even Cas looks great", his body almost shone brighter as Sam's mouth opened and closed. By Dean's side Castiel bowed his head almost in reverence to Sam, when he looked back up his ghostly blue eyes had the appearance of tears but none fell, "Sam, I'm so, so sorry", still slightly traumatised by the sudden company Sam continued to look dumbly on, speechless, eventually kicking his mind into gear he smiled easily at Cas, "hey, there's nothing to be sorry for, trust me." Castiel returned the smile and, like Dean, the light around him brightened. Sam looked sheepishly at the apparitions, "am I… I mean… are you real?" Dean let out a loud laugh and Cas nodded replying, "yes Sam, we are real, it's us. Just a little more dead than we've been used to." Taking a seat on the table next to the bodies Sam continued to stare intensely at the spirits.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked tentatively, knowing all too well that returning ghosts weren't all Casper. Dean nodded his head, instantly understanding the undertones of his brother's question, "don't worry dude, we haven't gone all vengeful spirit on you, we're just here to visit your sorry ass. They don't really like folks returning once they've made it all the way up, but we've never really been ones for following rules-", "Jesus Dean, you can't go messing around with rules now you're actually dead, won't that give you a VIP ticket to hell?!" Sam threw his brother a bitch face that seared through the chilling wall of death, Dean shrugged nonchalantly, "nah, Cas's got connections". Dean gave Cas a playful nudge but his shoulder only passed through Cas's ghostly arm, sadness settled in Dean's green eyes as he stared at where he'd tried to touch Cas, which morphed into an achingly heated gaze at the ex-angel. Cas, oblivious to Dean's momentary suffering by his side, smiled proudly at Sam who chuckled at the ex-angel, "I thought they all wanted you dead up there", Cas copied Dean's carefree shrug, "I guess they got what they wanted." The three men bent double in over flowing laughter, it hadn't really been funny at all, but it had alleviated some of the building tension in the absurd situation they found themselves in. They laughed because it was all they could do without breaking down in tears, without admitting how screwed up their lives were. It was how they had always coped, death was no different. Dean was the first to calm himself, his laughter having been one of the more forced, catching Sam's eye he took a deep breath of air that never reached his lungs. "There's a reason we came down here Sammy, and it's you. We know, ok, we know you tried to make a deal, tried all sorts of crap to try and get us back, and probably thought of a lot worse things to try. But just, stop, ok. We're happy, some cliche shit I know but trust me, me and Cas, we're good. We'll miss you like hell, but we'll be up here waiting for you to crawl on up here after a viagra overdose at 90 or something along those lines." Sam stared in bewilderment at his brother, "how can I even begin to let it all go, I just can't." He hung his head, not able to bare the pitiful stare of those green eyes, Cas's deep voice seemed to vibrate in his brain, "Sam, listen to Dean, and listen to me, we are not telling you how to live your life, we are simply saying it is ok to live. To continue on with your life. Ours has ended, that doesn't mean yours has to." The echoes of Cas' voice still echoed in Sam's ears as he raised his head, eyes shimmering with valiantly suppressed tears. Dean grinned at him "Dude, tears, you know I hate chick flick moments", but his own eyes glistened with the strange ghostly tears and his voice almost cracked, Sam let out a choking sound at the warmth emanating from the eyes of the two men standing before him. His family. 

They chatted for a while, mostly about nothing, they just basked in each others presence. Too soon Cas cocked his head to the sky and sighed sadly, "it's time Dean," he said. "No," Sam choked out, unable to stop himself. "It's ok, you're going to be ok", Dean smiled at his brother and Sam managed to smile back, although he could almost feel the despair which had been washed away by the ghosts arrival begin to lap at his soul again. "You give us a hunter's funeral you hear me and then you keep going. I don't care with what, paint, learn ballet, I don't give a fuck, just live Sammy. Please". Sam nodded his head, "I will Dean," he managed to push past his trembling lips. "Take care Sam, until we meet again", Cas said and began to fade into nothing. Sam tried desperately to stop the tremble in his bottom lip and his cheek began twitching, he looked to his brother who seemed to be having the same battle with his own traitorous features. "I'll see you later Sammy…" Dean's voice faded away, as did his ghostly form, leaving Sam alone again with two dead bodies. Shaking a breath out of himself he said under his breath, "yeah Dean, see you later". Feeling much stronger he made his way out of the bunker, savouring the fresh air, and began his search for fire wood.

The advert was simple, it read _The Winchester Family Business. No Longer Operating._ Pretty vague, but those who needed to know would instantly understand the meaning. The famous Winchester trio of hunters were no longer hunting and that was that. The funeral had started out as a sombre affair in a shadowed clearing of the forest, although it didn't feel right to Sam. Even gathered to commemorate two dead men, there was an underlying atmosphere of grieving for those who couldn't be at the pyre side, those who had already laid down their lives over the long years. Sam remembered beginning to write the list of people who he thought would want to pay their respects, the list had been depressingly small, but they'd all turned up, Charlie and Dorothy, Garth and his wife, Kevin, a couple locals they'd befriended and a cop they'd had help from on a few hunts. Once the fire was blazing and the whiskey had been passed round more than a few times the company grew more animated, recounting stories and adventures from their pasts, and sitting there in a cluster by the side of a funeral pyre they laughed and cried and sobbed and cheered with each other, raising toast after toast to departed friends and family. Sam's skin prickled, it might have just been the fire, but something in him told him the living were not the only ones paying their respects that night. Their talk continued far into the early morning as the sun began to sleepily stretch above the horizon. Giving everyone hugs as they left in a slow trickle, Sam felt peaceful. Eventually it was just Sam, Charlie and Dorothy, the latter two rose to make their departure from the clearing and moved toward Sam to give him a tight hug. "So Sam, what you going to do now?" Charlie asked warily, Sam smiled, the answer coming easily to him and taking him by surprise, "I'm going to go get some ice cream" he replied grinning. Charlie and Dorothy shared a look but shrugged at each other and both smiled at Sam as they said their goodbyes. Sam didn't leave the clearing immediately, he stayed by the glowing embers of the pyre a bit longer, talking to Cas and Dean, talking about his future.


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the end, hopefully you wonderful reader enjoyed!

**5 Years Later**

The hot air was alive with sweat and sweetness, it buzzed with the excited chattering of children and adults alike, it was everything and nothing as Sam had expected as he breathed in the magic of Disney Land around him. A boy of four, but with the height of an eight year old tugged anxiously at his hand, Sam looked down at his son and smiling asked, "What's up Kevin?" the boy shuffled his feet nervously, "will it be scary, they look pretty fast", the boy pointed to the teacup ride as they whizzed around each other, each teacup full of equal parts laughter and screaming. Sam chuckled, the teacup ride is the right sort of thing for a kid to be afraid of. A woman holding a little girl with blonde hair in her arms knelt down by the boy, "if you don't want to go, you can come and have ice cream with your sister and me, isn't that right Mary, Kev can come too". The toddler clapped her hands excitedly screaming, "icecreamicreamicecreamiceacream". Kevin looked up to his father, his eyes set hard, "no Mom, I'm gonna go on the teacups with dad, we'll be fine", and with that he grabbed Sam's hand again and they made their way to the end of the line but not before Sam managed to give his wife and daughter a parting kiss.

"Hey Dad, can you… um, can you tell me the story about you and Uncle Dean and Uncle Cas saving the world?" Sam nodded, a smile lighting up his face as he lifted his son up to sit on the fence where they were waiting, "which one?" he replied with a grin and a wink. Kevin giggled and looked at the length of the queue, "all of them". And so the boy with the demon blood, the soldier, the freak, the misfit, the man who had contained and fought Lucifer and thousands of other evil beings, told his son the story of the past he'd broken free from, "It all began when your Uncle Dean saved me from a burning house…"


End file.
